Symphira Starweaver's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

The broken scale lay in Symphira's palm, split again down the middle. The thread of warmth to her dragon's mind still held, but barely. She needed a whole heart-scale to make the bond strong. A dragon shed one such scale only rarely, and she did not know if any survived unbroken. If she poured her magic into a wrong guess, she might snap the thin thread she had left. She climbed onto the dragon's back and spoke the choice aloud. "We need a place your soul remembers." The dragon's head turned. Through the thread she felt a pull, faint but steady, like a compass finding north. She trusted it. They lifted off from her cloud-wrapped fortress and flew past the edge of her world. They landed in a forest where every leaf was gold. Great trunks curved up like the walls of a hall. Carved marks ran along the roots. The dragon lowered its head and breathed in, slow and deep. The pull in Symphira's mind grew warm. This was a place it knew. A bird woke in the high branches. It was large as a horse, its feathers red and orange flame, a crown of small stars burning above its head. It dropped to a low bough and fixed one blue eye on Symphira. She felt no fear from her dragon, only a strange hush, as if the two beasts had met before. "I search for a whole heart-scale," Symphira said. "My bond is cracked. I don't know if one still exists." The phoenix clicked its beak. It spread one wing toward a hollow between two roots. There, half buried in gold leaves, lay a nest of ash. Symphira climbed down and brushed the ash aside. Beneath it sat a single scale, shaped like a heart, flawless. No crack ran across it. It caught the light and sparkled like the night sky. Her breath caught. Here was the thing she had feared might not exist. But the phoenix stepped between her and the nest. It lowered its crowned head and waited. She understood. This scale was kept here, guarded. It would not come for free. Symphira had one thing of worth. She opened her hand and let her magic bloom gold above her palm, a gift of pure light. The phoenix leaned close and drank it in. Its stars burned brighter. Then it stepped aside. She lifted the whole scale. It was warm, and under her fingers she felt a strong, steady drum. The dragon lowered its great head beside her. For one moment, through the old cracked thread, she felt its hope. Symphira held the answer at last. A whole heart-scale survived, and now it was hers. But the name still lived inside the old broken scale, and a new one waited inside this flawless one. To finish the bond, she would have to wake the name again. And she did not yet know if both scales could sing as one.